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Perfect Strangers
By
Rob Rosen
I’d only been up to the cabin one time before and that was with my then boyfriend Charles. Charles, unlike the multitude that preceded him, remained a close friend even after the inevitable breakup. I say inevitable because even though the sex was great, it was really all we had in common. And while that is sometimes enough, maybe even often enough, it grows tiresome in the long haul. The long haul being six months, which was the length of time our romantic relationship lasted.
The relationship that followed those six months, what I suppose could be called the un-romantic relationship, gradually formed into a close friendship: not an uncommon thing to happen in the lives of gay men. In my life I have found that once the desire to sleep with one another has abated, a major obstacle in the formation of the friendship has been averted and you can move on. That’s what Charles and I did, anyway. We moved on. He to Max, whom he is still involved with, happily, and me to Greg. And then to John. And then to Steven.
Fine, I long ago realized that, sexually speaking, I had lots of things in common with lots of men. If you want to translate that into me being a slut, so be it. Though I’d beg to differ. I never, or rarely ever, sought sex for the sake of sex. Each one of these many men had the potential for being “The One”. At least in my addled mind they did. Each had that certain something that drew me towards them. Though, sadly, each also had that certain something that drove me away, sometimes fleeing as fast as my little legs could carry me.
In the case of Steven, back to the cabin, which Charles so graciously offered in order to help me forget my sorrows. Plus, the two of us felt that Steven might have become a tad unhinged. For my own safety we thought it best that I left the chilly environs of San Francisco for the even chillier one’s of the small mountain community about a half an hour’s drive from Lake Tahoe. And that, in a nutshell, is how I came to find myself far away from home on a snowy December 23rd.
But why exactly did I decide to strike it out on my own so close to Christmas? The answer was twofold. One, Steven had invited me to spend the holidays with him at his parent’s house and that I simply could not manage. Our relationship stood on fragile ground as it was. A week at his boyhood home was sure to shatter it, and me right along with it. Besides, I justified, why become close with his family when the outcome somewhere down the line was sure to be disastrous? I reasoned that it was better for all involved if we just ended it before the holidays descended upon us. Steven was less than agreeable with this new arrangement, as he had already told his family that we were coming. Caught between a rock and a hard place, I merely switched locations. In other words, I quickly dumped Steven.
Number two for my eagerness to be alone for the holidays was that I’m Jewish. Christmas means nothing more to me than time away from work. Just another date on the calendar. Still, I always found it minorly depressing to be around all those jolly Christmas revelers during this brief respite from my career. Always felt like the outsider: a fake at all those endless parties I was forever being invited to during this time. To make the comparison, being a Jew in a Christian world is about as much fun as being a Gay in a Straight one. And neither Christians nor Straights excited me all that much.
So you see, the decision to pack it all up and schlep my ass to the backwoods was an easy one to make. And, while I can’t say I was joyful at the prospect of being solo during the holidays, I was at least relieved at not having to be around people I simply could not relate to. Besides, though the cabin was miles away from civilization, it was rather beautiful, in a rustic sort of way. And being able to once again commune with nature did have its appeal. The few trees I managed to view on a daily basis, the ones planted in their small concrete beds, I certainly would not call nature. Nothing, I find, is more unnatural to me than this. So I was actually looking forward to this retreat, however lonely it was sure to be.
***
After several hours of driving, and with luggage in tow, I approached the cabin and was surprised, if not terrified, at finding the front door slightly ajar. The cabin was owned by Charles’s whole family, but he assured me that they were spending the holidays en masse in Boca Raton; which is, somewhat ironically, stomping grounds for more my kind of people than theirs. I have found that Jews and Gentiles prefer to congregate in their own communities the same way that Gays and Straights do. Boca had always been, in my mind, a destination for those of the Jewish ilk. Much like San Francisco is for Gays.
In any case, I was, I assumed, no longer alone in my mountain world. Someone else had apparently chosen the same destination I had for their holiday vacation. I prayed that whomever they were was now long gone.
“Hello?” I barely managed to whisper, as I gently pushed the door open and peered in.
Nothing. Then, “Hello,” I announced, louder this time, emboldened by the fact that I was now clutching a log that I had removed from a pile by the door.
Still no response. I breathed a sigh of relief. Though, in reality, if there was a robber on the premises I doubt he would have been so kind as to answer; at least with a friendly hello in response. To be on the safe side, I set my luggage down and tiptoed around the cabin, my log firmly grasped in hand, peering stealthily around corners and trying hard not to make any more noise that I already had. If I was to encounter a bad man, I was now ready for him. I supposed. Though I’d never actually conked someone on the head before, nor knew if I was actually capable of it. That awful stereotype of gays as sissies wasn’t too far off the mark when it came to yours truly.
I needn’t have worried. I found my quarry sitting on the floor in the master bedroom. He sat there with his legs crossed so that his feet rested on top of his knees. His hands sat atop his thighs, palms pointing upwards. He was, as I took him to be, in a state of meditation. A serenely calm look spread across his face as he sat there chanting. It gave me time to get a good look at him.
He was Indian. That is to say, he apparently came from India. He was dark with dark, short hair and a dark, short mustache. Only his clothes were bright, offering up a stark contrast. He seemed exceedingly thin and rather on the diminutive side. His face would be, what I considered, boyish. My trusty log would not be needed. Even I could have taken this intruder if it came to that.
“It is impolite to stare,” he said, with his eyes still closed.
I jumped. I didn’t think he knew that I was even there. The log fell to the ground.
“Were you planning on using that?” he asked, slowly opening his eyes to reveal deep, dark irises. “Or were you going to build a fire?”
“Who are you?” I asked, rather than answer his question.
“I might ask you the same thing,” he responded in an accent that was almost entirely British sounding, with just a tinge of Indian.
I explained my presence there. He explained his. Charles had invited me. Charles’s brother had invited him. We supposed that neither brother had consulted with the other first. And now I was no longer to be alone for Christmas.
He introduced himself as Jonathan: as unlikely an Indian name as I could imagine. He said he was raised in Britain. That would explain the accent. He had met Charles’s brother in college at Cambridge. I remembered that Charles had told me his brother went to school there. I always did find that curious. When Jonathan mentioned to Charles’s brother that he was planning on spending a month in the States, he offered him the cabin for as long as he liked. And, voila, there was the story of my intruder. He related this to me without moving from his seated position. Uncomfortable towering over him like that, I sat on the bed and explained how I had come to be there. He nodded and then went back to his chanting.
A strange response from a strange man, I thought. I sat there and waited for more. More of what, I hadn’t a clue. When no more conversation appeared forthcoming, I lay down on the bed and listed to Jonathan chant. It was strangely soothing, though somewhat creepy, for obvious reasons.
After a time, he asked, “And why are you not with your family during this holiday?”
I answered, while still laying in the bed and staring up at the ceiling, “Because I’m Jewish and this is not my holiday.”
“Ah, I see,” he said. “I am of the Hindu faith. This is not my holiday either.”
“In truth,” I offered, for some odd reason, “I hate Christmas and prefer to keep my distance from most Christians.”
“My religion teaches me not to hate any people.”
“I’m sure mine does too, but it’s an old religion and I think that those teachings got lost somewhere along the way.”
“Hinduism is the oldest religion on the planet.”
“Oh.”
We sat there in silence for several more minutes. I rolled over and watched as Jonathan continued his meditating. Actually, he was rather adorable, but all that chanting was driving me up the wall. I was grateful when he finished and finally stood up. He couldn’t have been more than five and a half feet tall. He stretched his lithe, little body before continuing in conversation with me.
“Do you meditate?” he asked, then walked over to the bed. “It does wonders for clearing out one’s head.”
“No, I like to keep my head full at all times, in case I need to think of something really fast.”
“I see.” He paused and contemplated my wisdom before asking, “And what are you thinking right now?”
“Actually, my thoughts are going two ways right about now. The first, well, since we just met I’d rather not say. The second, I don’t mind saying, is that I’m starving.”
“Ah, then we’ll work on the second. I have already been shopping in town and was just about to fix myself some lunch. Would you care to join me?”
“I’d be delighted, Jonathan.” Something about talking to Jonathan made me speak dandily.
Jonathan fixed me a nice sandwich and a salad. He was a vegetarian, so no meat. Living in the wacky world of San Francisco all those years had already accustomed me to strange dietary practices, so I was fine with what he had to offer. We ate in silence. I watched Jonathan as he ate his sandwich. He appeared to contemplate each and every chew and swallow. I prayed that the rest of my stay would not be so quiet. It was one thing to be alone in silence and something completely different when you’re with someone else. One is calming, the other stressful. I think Jonathan sensed my thoughts and offered to go for a walk through the woods when we were finished.
“Will you be clearing any more thoughts?” I asked.
“No, I believe I’m all clear now, thank you. We can chat, if you like.”
He grinned and revealed exceedingly white teeth. It figured that he had impeccable dental habits. Jonathan had that air of perfection to him. I don’t know if it was because he was Indian or British or Hindu or what. He simply just radiated peace and contentment. This was something I wasn’t used to. Life in the big city offered me very little of either; at least my life didn’t, anyway. I figured it was because I was American and Jewish and Gay.
We finished our lunches and bundled up for our walk. It couldn’t have been more than twenty degrees outside, but it was wonderfully sunny.
“It is very beautiful here, yes?” he asked me, once we found something of a path to walk along.
“Yes, Jonathan, it is,” I agreed. “And relaxing.”
“Relaxation is a state of mind,” he said. “One does not need all this to achieve that. One only needs what is in here.” He pointed to his head.
“Jonathan, have you ever seen the television show Kung Fu?”
“The one with David Carradine? Of course, it was very popular in my country when I was growing up.”
I was surprised that he knew of it, but Jonathan seemed full of surprises.
“Why do you ask?” he asked.
“Because you remind me of David Carradine’s character,” I answered.
“Oh, but that was make believe and I am quite real.”
“Of that I am sure.”
Though I found it nearly impossible to believe that anyone in this day and age was that relaxed. I had certainly never met anyone like Jonathan in San Francisco. I’d like to see how he’d react at rush hour on the subway. That’s when you really saw a person’s true colors.
We walked through the forest like that for quite some time, chatting aimlessly about nothing in particular. After all, we were strangers to each other. And still, I found it exceedingly easy to talk to him. Like we had known each other a very long time.
***
“Jonathan, I was wondering, do you believe in reincarnation?” I asked, once we had returned from our walk and were warming ourselves by the fire.
“Oh yes. I most certainly do. Why do you ask?”
“I was just curious. I thought I heard that Hindus believe in that. Do you know who you were? I mean, before?”
“Well, one can never absolutely be certain of such a thing, but I believe I have some insight into your question.”
He took his sweater off and lay down by the fire, staring up at the ceiling before continuing. I liked that vantage point because it meant I could stare at him without him knowing it. Something about being around him made me feel like a deer caught in the headlights. Make that: a queer caught in the headlights. There was that certain something about him that I found insanely attractive; though being properly British, what some might call foppish, it was impossible to tell whether or not he was gay or straight.
He continued with his answer to my question. “I cannot say exactly who I was; by that I mean that I cannot give you the names. But I have these strong feelings about what kind of person, or persons, I was. I sense that in many of my past lives I struggled. And in many of those lives, I failed. I think I may have even met with several horrible fates. Awful deaths. But then from one life to the next, I think I learned from these mistakes. Realized where I went wrong. Tried not to repeat my errors. I think this is why people have certain phobias: irrational fears that cannot be explained. For instance, I have this awful fear of water. I think that in a past life I may have drowned. I also have this aversion to being hungry because in several of my past lives I feel that I was frequently starving. Does this make any sense to you?”
I thought about what he had said before answering. Maybe this all went a long way in explaining why I was the way I was.
“Perhaps, Jonathan, the reason I can’t seem to commit to a relationship, the reason I always seem to find myself running away, is because I was hurt in some awful way in a past life. Maybe it forever marred my soul.”
“That is an interesting thought,” he said, while still staring at the ceiling. “Perhaps yes. Perhaps no. The soul, however, is not damageable. It is a pure thing from one life to the next. We can change who we are, but not what we are. Inside, that is. If it is indeed true that you were emotionally hurt in a past life, then you should try to fix your problem in this one. Running away from it may doom you to repeat the process in the next life.”
“Or maybe I’m just a slut.”
“Maybe, yes. Some people are what they are.” He looked over at me and grinned.
“And have we met in a past life before?”
“Oh yes. Of that I feel certain. Fate plays a strong hand in this life. There are not so many mere coincidences. You and I found this place at this time for a reason. I feel that perhaps in a past life we had unresolved issues. Maybe that is why we both feel like we have known each other in the past.”
“And how do you know that?” I asked. “I never mentioned that to you.”
“Call it a gut feeling,” he replied. “I simply sensed that it was the case. Do you disagree?”
“No, I don’t. I sensed it as well. Actually, it’s what’s made it so easy to sit here and talk with you like this when we’ve only know each other a few hours.”
“Exactly my point.”
His point was well taken. But, uncomfortable with the thought that I now needed to adjust my life in order to accommodate my soul, I moved on to other less philosophical topics. Besides, as a Jew, I wasn’t sure if I necessarily believed in what he had said, despite it making some sense. Jonathan, for his part, was fine with talking about anything I liked, just so long as he was able to snack throughout. There seemed to be no chance that in this life he was ever going to starve. Perhaps that’s what brought him some of his sense of inner peace. Too bad I couldn’t figure out what I needed to find the same thing.
***
Jonathan and I continued in this fashion through the night and the next day. By Christmas, I felt like we were old friends, not just old souls that may or may not have known each other in the past. And still I didn’t know if he was gay or straight. I don’t suppose it mattered much. Maybe the idea that I needed to sleep with someone first in order to be able to become friends with them was a fallacy. Maybe this was not the obstacle I needed to overcome after all. In the case of Jonathan, it was easy to become his friend. I simply opened myself up to the idea and it became reality. Jonathan was open to all ideas, so he didn’t seem to have any obstacles to begin with.
I think that Jonathan sensed this in me because on Christmas day, while we again walked in the forest, he pulled from his pocket a small object wrapped in brown paper.
“Merry Christmas,” he said, and handed me the present.
“I thought that neither of us celebrated Christmas,” I said, but took the present, nonetheless.
“Well, the spirit of giving is always a nice sentiment. Call it coincidence that today just so happens to be Christmas.”
“I thought you said that there was no such thing as coincidence,” I said, grinning down at him.
“To quote your Kung Fu show, ‘ah, Grasshopper, I see you have learned well’.” He smiled up at me and stood in place while I opened my gift.
In truth, I had no idea what it was once I removed the paper. It was a small, plump man with a head of an elephant. In his hands he held several instruments and under his foot appeared to be a tiny rat.
“I see that you do not know what this object represents,” he said to me. “Then I will explain. This is Ganesh. He is one of our benevolent Hindu gods. He is known as the remover of obstacles. All Hindu’s pray to Ganesh. Perhaps he may help you on your journey through life. I believe he has helped me in mine.”
I was touched and didn’t know how to respond. We stood there in silence while I gathered my thoughts. Jonathan helped me by asking one more thing of me.
“The day we first met, I asked you a question, my friend. I asked you what you were thinking. You replied that there were two things, but the first one you wished not to share. Perhaps you can overcome this obstacle as an offering to Ganesh and perhaps he will do something for you in return.”
I remembered well what I was thinking that day. In truth, I had not stopped thinking about it since I first met Jonathan. But again, I was afraid to start something that may end in disaster; much the same way I ended my relationship with Steven, just a few short days prior. Much the same way I ended most of my relationships. And, though I may have averted disaster in all these, I never quite felt like I was any happier with the outcome.
I looked down at the gift before deciding what to do. My God may not have been happy about it, but I said a prayer to his and asked for some guidance. When I looked back up, I had my answer. In the dark irises of Jonathan’s eyes, I saw the light. As I bent down to follow the path that fate had lain out before us, I realized that at least one obstacle was about to be overcome.
Our lips met and a volt of electricity rushed through my body. Perhaps our souls had finally achieved their destinies. Perhaps indeed we were fated to be there on that cold, December day. I did feel a sense of inner peace as we stood there kissing. Like a cloud had been lifted. I opened my eyes to find that Jonathan was staring into them. He stopped kissing me as a grin appeared on his face. I smiled down at him in return.
“So, my friend, did Ganesh answer you?”
“Maybe, maybe not, Jonathan. I think, more likely, that I answered me.”
“That is a clever answer,” he said, again, pressing his warm lips to mine. This time we both kept our eyes open.
“You know,” he said, again breaking the kiss, but keeping his eyes locked on mine, “I must leave this country in a few weeks to go back to my own. Perhaps it would be best if we did not continue with this.”
“Oh, but Jonathan, just think what our souls will have to go through in our next lives if we don’t.” I smiled again and held him in my arms. “Besides, I think fate may have something wonderful planned for us. Why tempt it?”
“Yes, indeed. That is never a wise choice. I think, my friend, that you are clever beyond your years.”
“And I think, my friend, that I am getting there. I am definitely on my way.”
Copyright © 2004 Rob Rosen
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